When Qian Jiaoniang grew tired, she handed her still-soaring kite to Shanzha at her side. Shanzha’s own kite had refused to take flight, so to receive Jiaoniang’s was sheer delight.
Hongjuan had already laid down mats and set out refreshments. Jiaoniang laughed as she came over to sit, picked up a piece of yokan, and popped it into her mouth, then raised her eyes to watch Yanluo and the others chasing butterflies. Qian Liniang was a little farther off, with her maid and nurse attending her son.
The spring breeze was soft and soothing. Listening to the voices of laughter, Qian Jiaoniang grew a little dazed—as if all this were a dream, and the least loud sound would pierce it.
“Madam, here is the tea prepared for the marquis. Shall I take it, or will you?”
Hongjuan’s question broke Jiaoniang’s drifting thoughts. She raised her head abruptly. Xing Muzheng happened to be looking her way. Meeting his gaze, she murmured: “I’ll go.”
She took the little silver tray Hongjuan had prepared and carried it over to where Xing Muzheng sat on the grass with his fishing rod. Sitting down beside him, she looked up as he looked down.
“Marquis, have you caught any fish?”
“Not yet,” Xing Muzheng said.
Qian Jiaoniang held up the tray toward him. “The fish here must be hard to catch, right?”
“Yes.” Xing Muzheng glanced sideways, picked up the teacup, and took a sip.
Qian Jiaoniang let out a soft laugh. She gazed at the tranquil lake surface, the breeze lifting strands of her hair. She silently watched Xing Muzheng fish for a while, so peaceful it made her drowsy. Then Xing Muzheng drew out a letter from his robe. “From Chou’er.”
Qian Jiaoniang instantly woke up. She straightened her posture, her smiling eyes narrowing as she quickly tore it open.
“Read it aloud to me.”
He was testing the characters she had learned. Qian Jiaoniang unfolded the paper still carrying the scent of ink, cleared her throat, and began: “Most honored Mother, most honored Father…” She frowned and muttered, “Where did this brat learn such stiff, bookish nonsense? Can’t he just write ‘Mother, Father’? Saves a few characters, too.”
Xing Muzheng’s eyes carried a smile. “Letters must be written like this. And since Mister Cao is at his side, naturally he keeps it proper.” Though by custom, “Father” should be written before “Mother,” yet the boy always wrote “Mother” first.
Qian Jiaoniang wrinkled her brow, but since it was the teacher’s instruction, she let it go. She stumbled through the reading; whenever she hit a character she didn’t know, Xing Muzheng taught her on the spot. In the letter, Xing Pingchun reported his safety and mentioned that his second attempt to invite the hermit had also failed, leaving him quite discouraged.
“Things should not be forced a third time. Let him wait a few days and try again. If it still doesn’t work, it shows the hermit truly has no wish to come out of seclusion—then there’s no need to disturb him further,” Xing Muzheng said. “When you reply tonight, write my words into it.”
Qian Jiaoniang thought for a moment, then nodded. She smiled and added: “I’ll tell him we flew kites today. He’ll definitely make a huge fuss about it.” Thinking of her son’s loud exclamations, Qian Jiaoniang couldn’t help but laugh.
Xing Muzheng laughed along. “No matter. In the future we’ll bring him here, bring him every year. And if later there’s a younger sister, we’ll bring her too.”
Just those few words sketched out such a picture that Qian Jiaoniang’s gaze flickered, her heart a swirl of mixed emotions.
She was starting to feel light-headed—dangerously so. Qian Jiaoniang dug her nails hard into her palm.
Xing Muzheng turned his head and, seeing her slightly bowed, assumed she was shy. He stared at that delicate, porcelain-like face, and suddenly his chest softened, an urge to pour out his heart welling up. “Jiaoniang…” He impulsively began, but stopped short. Jiaoniang wanted real care, not empty words. If he said it out loud, she might think he lacked manliness. Yet the surge of emotion in his chest was stifling.
Qian Jiaoniang, puzzled at his half-finished words, looked up at him—only to fall into those fathomless yet flirtatious eyes. This was the Xing Muzheng she only ever saw at night. She froze for a moment. But he swept open his wide robe, shielding them from view, and suddenly pressed his lips hard against her red lips.
Qian Jiaoniang’s eyes flew wide. Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest. Luckily, Xing Muzheng’s lingering kiss ended quickly, and he released her. Still, she stared at him in disbelief, her face already crimson, her heart thundering like war drums. “With so many people around—you’ve no shame!” she ground out between her teeth.
Having kissed her, Xing Muzheng felt his chest loosen, and in true shameless fashion he said, “It’s fine. Didn’t I block it?”
What brazen words! Did he really think that flimsy shield of his meant no one could tell what they were doing? Hadn’t he once been all stern propriety? Now he was like a beast in heat, seizing any chance! Qian Jiaoniang set down the tray and stood up; she dared not linger near him. If he made another scene, even burrowing into the ground wouldn’t save her.
Xing Muzheng only raised his brows and smiled, not stopping her. Heaven knew he truly wanted to clear the place of all onlookers and pin her down then and there.
Enough, enough—wait until night… Xing Muzheng exhaled a long, turbid breath.
Qian Jiaoniang pretended to admire the kites, standing with her head tilted back into the wind until the heat faded from her cheeks. Only then did she stroll over to Qian Liniang. Liniang had sent the nurse to take her son to see the kites, and was now watching Jiaoniang with a faintly strange expression.
Qian Jiaoniang felt uneasy under her gaze, and then heard her sister ask, half-smiling, “What were you and the Marquis just doing just now?”
So she had been seen! And by her second sister, no less! Inwardly cursing Xing Muzheng, Qian Jiaoniang forced calm and said, “Nothing—just that some sand blew into my eyes, and the Marquis helped me blow it out.”
“Oh…” Qian Liniang gave no sign whether she believed it or not.
“Second Sister,” Jiaoniang quickly changed the subject, “these days you’ve been staying at the Marquis’s manor—have you gotten used to it?”
Liniang smiled. “Of course. This grand household can’t compare with a small one. My food, clothing, and all are far better here than at the Sun residence. I once thought marrying into the Suns was the best I could hope for. Now I see it was just that my vision was too narrow, not knowing there are always higher mountains and greater men.”
“So long as you’re comfortable, that’s good.” Jiaoniang smiled. “I only want to tell you, even away from the Sun family, you can still live well. Here in the Marquis’s household, without the scheming for favor and power, isn’t your heart much more at ease?”
“Little Sister…”
“Second Sister, I know everyone has their own mind. If I forced choices on you, even if they turned out right, you’d resent me. I only hope you’ll truly consider it. Even though you’ve borne Sun Bai a son, he’s so fickle-hearted—he’s not a worthy husband for you. While you’re still young, you can still get free. I promise you this: as long as I, Qian Jiaoniang, have food to eat, I will never let my elder sister go without. If one day you meet a good man, you can marry out from the Marquis’s manor, and no one could speak a word against you. This is all I can do to help. If you insist on staying with the Suns, I can’t stop you. I can only make sure they don’t bully you. But I will not undermine Sun Bai’s household on your account, nor will I ever give Yanluo to him as a concubine.”
The more Qian Liniang listened, the colder her heart grew. Right now, she was basking in triumph—whatever means she had used, she had managed to stand alone in control of the Marquis’s rear court. Just now she’d even seen her shameless sister openly entice the Marquis into improper behavior in broad daylight. And now, suddenly, Jiaoniang came acting all proper and moral with her? Instead of supporting her in the Sun household, she wanted her to slink away in disgrace. What exactly was this younger sister scheming at?
Qian Liniang forced a smile. “Younger sister, I know you mean well for me. It’s just that your elder sister also has her own difficulties… look, why don’t you first ask the Marquis to secure an official promotion for Sunlang, and then we can discuss other matters…” If her husband were promoted, everyone in the Sun family would know it was thanks to her younger sister’s intercession. That way, she could hold her head high again.
Qian Jiaoniang gave her a long, searching look, a trace of disappointment in her heart. “Such things as promotion are men’s business. If Sun Bai does well, he’ll naturally rise in rank.”
So this wouldn’t do, that couldn’t be helped either—was her younger sister only set on making her into a cast-off wife? Qian Liniang’s face fell.
“Elder sister, I only hope you can live happily. Before, our family was poor, and you had no choice but to become a concubine. But now I can shield you a little, and you needn’t keep swallowing grievances. No woman truly likes her man to have many wives and concubines! The world is wide—surely you can find another good match. Even if not, even without men we women can still live well.” Qian Jiaoniang stood up as she finished speaking. “I’ve said what I needed to say. Sister, I beg you to think it over carefully.”
With that, Qian Jiaoniang left.
As soon as she was gone, Taohong came up quietly and asked what the Marchioness had said. Qian Liniang, brooding, repeated her words. Taohong gave a sharp intake of breath. How strange this Marchioness was—rather than persuading reconciliation, she urged separation? “Mistress, what should we do now?”
Qian Liniang pressed her lips together in silence for a long while before lifting her gaze coldly toward Qian Jiaoniang’s retreating figure, then at Xing Muzheng still calmly fishing. Her voice was low and bitter: “Didn’t she tell me to leave Sunlang? Then I’ll leave—just to show her!”
The next morning at dawn, as Xing Muzheng passed along a small garden path after leaving the rear courtyard, he suddenly heard a woman weeping. Looking ahead, he saw a lady sitting in a pavilion, face covered in tears, with a maid beside her who looked to be Qian Liniang’s. Xing Muzheng halted and called over a servant. “Go tell the Madam that Second Madam is weeping here.”
The servant went off, and Xing Muzheng did not look again, but turned and took a longer route.
Another day later, while Xing Muzheng was reviewing memorials in his study, word suddenly came that Qian Liniang requested an audience.
